The Barest of Words
by I Live on a Phantom Planet
Summary: "Percy really can't explain it, and if he is being completely honest, maybe he doesn't want to. He knows he's not considered 'normal', but as far as he is concerned, that's not such a bad thing." Percy hasn't spoken in 3 years, and that's okay. That is, until he meets Nico. Maybe his voice isn't totally lost after all. Percy/Nico
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I am not Rick Riordan. Know what that means? I don't own Percy Jackson and his friends.**

**Chapter 1**

Percy really can't explain it, and if he is being completely honest, maybe he doesn't want to. It doesn't matter how many times his parents lecture him, how many therapists they send him to, Percy just won't explain. It's not so much that he is being stubborn, or irrational; he just doesn't see the point. As far as he can see, he's not missing out on anything important. So what if Percy doesn't have any friends – they hardly seem essential. He admits that occasionally he gets lonely, but who doesn't? Percy knows he's not considered 'normal', but as far as he is concerned, that's not such a bad thing.

"Perseus Ugliano!"

Percy is fairly sure he dies a little bit inside every time someone calls him by that last name. He doesn't know why she bothers anymore, really. All the other teachers gave up on him years ago. She's the only one who continues to persist; continues to bother him every lesson when she _knows_ he won't answer.

"Mr. Ugliano, are you even _listening_?"

Percy winces and nods once. No comments – They're used to his routine. As soon as she decides to leave him alone for the time being, Percy switches off again, his mind wandering to places far beyond the stone walls of his classroom. He thinks of how he can't wait until he can get home and hide up in his room, his guitar at his fingertips with the music flowing through him. Percy knows it's the only thing that can really get him through the day, really. It's all he has. Everybody has given up on him, even his parents. They stare at him with the same look of disappointment; of heartbreak on their faces each time he walks into the room, sharing secret glances that obviously ask each other why Sally couldn't have has a different son, a _normal _son.

Percy doesn't even hear the bell ring, but when other students begin shuffling out the door in a rush, he takes it as a cue to get up, but not before his teacher decides to hound him some more.

"Mr. Ugliano, could you stay behind please?"

Percy wonders briefly why she acts as though it is a question, because, damn, if he had a choice, he'd be out of there before she could even blink. But there is a stern look in her eyes that says this isn't a question, there is no choice. And so he walks to her desk.

"I'm worried about you, Mr. Ugliano."

Percy winces.

"You don't participate in school discussions –"

Percy looks at her pointedly. Is she serious?

"– and while I know that it's because of your… your _problem_ –"

Percy loves how they refuse to spell it out clearly. It's always his little _problem_. Nobody has the cuts to come right out and say it, and he sure as hell isn't going to help them along with it. He takes a perverse pleasure in watching them struggle to try and not offend him, to edge around the words as if it would be horrible of them to test the words on their lips.

"—I really had hoped you would begin to open up more this year. I'm sure that you could do extremely well, if you just _tried_, Perseus. You write so well. And your poetry… I've never seen anything like it."

Percy feels like flipping her off, he really does. He hates his parents for showing her his most precious possessions – the pages and pages of paper covered in his scrawled handwriting. Percy loves to write. He loves watching his thoughts spill onto the paper, they way his hand cramps from writing so furiously after too long. Percy writes anything and everything, but mostly, he writes lyrics. Lyrics to soft songs played secretly on his guitar, lyrics he never, ever wanted his parents to see.

But as they so often did, they raided his room, discovered his precious leaflets – delighted that Sally' son showed some spark of _feeling_ – had sent them off to his teacher. He hated them all.

"I just wish that you would get past all this… this... well, you know what I mean. Why is it, Perseus? Why do you do this?"

Percy shrugs. He doesn't need to explain himself to her, to anyone. He is how he is, and that's the end of that. Why should he have to justify it?

"Alright, you can go."

She dismisses him with an air of frustration, and Percy begins to think that maybe she'll leave him alone now, like all the rest. But he knows not to get his hopes up. She's so damn _persistent_.

ℓℓℓ

Percy walks up the drive to the house, his feet dragging along the pavement beneath him. He doesn't like to call the place his home. He has always connected 'home' with somewhere to be loved, cared for… and this place now makes him feel anything but. As soon as he walks in the door, his mom's eyes are on him, calculating, wondering, and as always, that disappointment is etched into her features.

"Hi, Perseus."

His mom is the only one who ever tries to establish contact. His stepfather much prefers to just avoid him like the plague, and if he is ever forced to stay in the same room as his son, the most acknowledgements Percy will ever receive are half-assed grunts and maybe a nod of the head. Percy can't help it – he grimaces. He really, really hates his name. Why of all things must they call him Perseus? Percy has been going by this shortened version for years now – Only they don't know it. How could they with his… _problem_.

His mother, misinterpreting his disgust, shoots him a hurt look, and Percy can't help be bothered trying to make her understand, instead choosing to slip into his bedroom, unnoticed by his stepfather who's sitting in the lunge with a scotch clasped in a death-grip.

Percy hates his stepfather.

The guitar is in his hands quickly, to Percy's relief. He digs it out from the back of his closet, sitting down on his bed and merely letting his fingers relax on the strings, feeling the texture, simply losing himself in the instrument. He sets its aside for a moment, getting on his knees on the floor and scooting over to his dresser. He fishes around the bottom drawer, far in the back, where his parents always forget to check. There, he finds his most recent drabbles, his thoughts on paper, his world, his world. They took all the rest, but Percy held fast to whatever he could, treasuring the crumpled bits of paper more than his life. Back on his bed, he flattens the papers out before him, finally beginning to strum the guitar absentmindedly, losing himself in the words as he reads, finally disappearing to a place where he can be _Percy_, where he can be himself without having to worry about disappointing his mom and worrying teachers. Where at last, Percy can find the tiniest glimmer of hope, and remember, for a split second, what it was like to be happy.

It doesn't last long, before his mother is knocking on his door, calling him for dinner. A dinner in which no one says a word, as is common in the Ugliano household. Sometimes, Percy wishes it were different. That he was what they considered normal, just so that his mother could love him again, and end whatever torment continuously festered in all their minds.

But most of the time, Percy just wants to disappear.

Tomorrow, they will send him to another therapist. Another session of trying to drill into him, force him out of his carefully constructed shell and break him; try and make him spill the secrets to the world – the reason why he really, truly, is why he is.

But as per usual, Percy won't tell them a word. He'll just sit there and let the words fall into one ear and out the other, frustrating the therapist more and more until eventually, they give up on him, palming him off to someone else. And Percy will not say a word to them.

Because why should he justify it? He is Percy Jackson. And he is entirely happy with that.

So why can't they be?

_I don't know why but I saw Percy Jackson as a guitar player. It seemed fitting in the story that it (along with writing) would be his way of getting out what he didn't say, I know Percy is a little OOC, but I thought this attitude would fit better in the story with what he has been through. In this world he didn't have Annabeth, Grover and his other friends to help him. He was all alone. _

_And I know that he is referred to as Percy Ugliano throughout the chapter, but at the end he called himself Percy Jackson. It will be explained._


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I am not Rick Riordan. Know what that means? I don't own Percy Jackson and his friends.**

**Chapter 2**

Percy can't really believe it. It's been two years since they bothered sending him to a shrink. Percy used to spend day in, day out on those stupid couches, therapist after therapist trying to worm their way into his mind, and after wasting copious amounts of money, his parents had given up.

Or so he had thought.

He supposes it was the damn writing again. His mother must have decided that he had a fighting chance, and was back to trying desperately to figure out what was wrong with her son. What Percy hates most, is that she isn't doing it for him. It's never been for him; it's for her. Simply so she can work to get him better, and then she can once again show off her son to her friends, and prove that he is normal, he really is.

Percy wants to let her know that it won't do any good. It doesn't matter how many different shrinks she sends him to, he still won't be who she wants him to be. He wants her to know that she is the one who made him this way, but he can't. She refuses to see the signs, and Percy wonders if it's because, deep down, she knows. Nevertheless, she ushers him into the car and runs around to the other side before he can open the door and get out again. The engine is on before he can even blink, and Percy sits back, letting a sight escape his lips and knowing today will be just another day of questions leading nowhere fast.

ℓℓℓ

"Perseus Ugliano?"

The receptionist doesn't even need to look at her papers as Percy walks in. She knows who he is, just as all the others have. Percy has become some twisted form of a celebrity in the psychiatry world. All of them scrambling to see who can crack the mystery first; see who can claim that title that yes, I fixed Perseus Ugliano. Because Percy knows that 'fixed' is the term they will use. Fixed, solved, figured him out… He's just a puzzle to them, and maybe that's why Percy never wants to tell them a damn thing.

His mother nods for him, and the receptionist proceeds to usher him into a room that's dull, Percy almost wants to cry. There's a plain black leather couch, as there always is, and an equally plain chair beside it. The walls are a sickening shade of warm yellow, and from experience, he knows it's supposed to make him feel at home. It doesn't. He doesn't wan to be here, but Percy never really has a choice in the matter. He goes where he is pushed, and doesn't complain. He doesn't complain because he can't - won't. Instead, he does what he's told, his eyes sinking down onto the chair, his heart sinking with them.

"If you'll just take a seat, Mr. Ugliano…"

Percy does as he is told once again, forcing himself not to cringe at the sound of that name. The leather of the seat is cold and uncomfortable, and it squeaks annoyingly as he tries to adjust himself on it. He hates that way he has to lie at an odd angle, and he finds himself wishing that they would hurry up and go home. His mother and the receptionist are gone quickly, and Percy knows it's because his mother hates these places. He knows they remind her of how different her son is.

Percy waits a total of around ten minutes before the door swings open again, and a woman steps into the room.

"Perseus, is it?"

The name again sounds bitter, and Percy can't help but shake his head vehemently.

"It says here your name's Perseus, honey."

Her tone has a hint of frustration in it, and Percy can tell immediately that she's going to be just another one who will insist he's crazy. She sits down beside him, and Percy carefully avoids her eyes, fidgeting awkwardly on the stupid couch.

"So let's get to know each other a little, sweetheart."

Percy scowls at her, but she presses on as though there was no reaction, and Percy begins to wonder what kind of therapist she really is. He's used to them scribbling down every movement and facial expression, but it's as if she doesn't even notice him.

"I have a son about your age, Perseus. I'm sure you'd get along quite well."

Percy doubted it. For one, nobody ever gets along with him very well. And for another, she doesn't know shit about the boy sitting on her couch, so how dare she make such assumptions?

"How do you like school?" She asks the question nonchalantly, as though she was just making conversation, but Percy wasn't stupid. He'd seen enough shrinks, and been asked the same question enough times to know that it's a simple way of finding out if he gets bullied. But Percy doesn't, not really. It's more like they avoid him. Nobody wants to be seen associating with Perseus Jackson Ugliano, and Percy doesn't really blame them half the time. They ignore him, and he ignores them. It's a mutual relationship, and he doesn't understand why everyone seems to be convinced that he suffers trauma at school.

If he's being honest, Percy will admit that he tunes out for the rest of the examination. She doesn't even notice however, droning on and on. It says right there on the paper that Percy doesn't talk, and she doesn't expect him to in their first session. Instead, she assumes that he's listening, and continues talking, waiting for him to open up.

Slowly, Percy comes to hate this room even more, staring at its drab contents and scowling. He doesn't want to be here, and he can guess she knows it. He wishes his mother would stop forcing him to see all these people- It would be much easier for all of them. Percy wouldn't have to sit through such pointless sessions that are a waster of everyone's time. The therapist wouldn't get so annoyed all the time, and his mother and stepfather would save a lot of money. Sometimes Percy wonders just how far his mother would go to get her "normal" son.

Lost in his own thoughts, Percy doesn't hear her when she clears her throat, announcing that their session is over. She has to repeat herself three times before Percy jolts back to reality, looking at her with an expression of shock.

"Perseus, you can go now," she says again, and Percy nods, standing up, the chair squeaking as he does so.

His mother is waiting for him in the hall, and Percy walks toward her gloomily, not looking forward to the car ride home where she will undoubtedly drill him on how the session went. Percy will ignore her, as he always does.

His mother begins to lead him towards the door. He doesn't know why he does it, but some surge of instinct forces Percy to turn his head and look back the way he came. It's that small action that allows him to watch as the most gorgeous boy Percy has ever set eyes on walks into the room just as he entered.

Percy allows himself to smile.

He wonders who the boy is, and whether he's here for a session, just like Percy was. It's a brief thought before his mother is tugging his arm, and again tells him to get in the car. He looks at her, and he wonders why she hates him so much.

"Why won't you let anyone help you Perseus?"

Percy looks out the window as the scenery goes by, and he wonders whether he's the one who needs help. After all, his only problem is that Percy does not talk. Not a word has passed Percy's lips in three years, and he can't say he finds that a bad thing. Percy has had experience with words; he's seen what they can do, how much damage they can inflict… He hasn't spoken in three years. He's all but forgotten how. Percy knows his voice is there somewhere, but he's quite happy not hearing it, thank you very much.

If only they could see that.

_**So yet another thrilling chapter. What'd ya think? I know things still need to be explained. Hang in there with me. This will get better. Oh and you saw a glimpse of Nico! He gets an introduction next chapter. And I have not bought the Blood of Olympus yet, so NO SPOILERS! PLEASE!**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I am not a middle age man that teaches and writes books. That also means I'm not Rick Riordan. Therefore, I don't own Percy Jackson and his friends. Enjoy **

**Chapter 3**

When Percy gets home, he's not surprised that his stepfather does not say a word, instead preferring to ignore his stepson. The ever-present glass of scotch is at his fingertips as he leans against the kitchen counter, and Percy wishes that he could pour every drop of the damned liquid down the fucking sink. He knows it's a stupid idea from a previous experience, however. Last time Percy tried something like that , he ended up with his arm in a sling and bruises littering his skin. It's something he has to accept, he supposes. His stepfather will not stop drinking. Not for his wife, his family, anyone.

So why should Percy care?

Instead, he continues up to his room without a word, to where he can disappear, if only just for a little while.

ℓℓℓ

Percy doesn't understand why his classmates despise school, really. It's as if it's in the description of a teenager that they must despise school at all costs. There's no such thing as even indifference. It's all hatred until they've graduated, and, just like everything else, it's only once they're free of the prison, do they wish to go back.

Percy supposes it's just another thing that makes him irregular.

He doesn't mind school, not really. He doesn't particularly like it either. It's just that its so routine, that Percy finds it hard to think of life without the dull hours he spends inside those walls. The minutes might creep by slowly, painfully even, but at least he's doing something. At least, he's preoccupied, rather than left to fester inside his own mind until he drives himself insane.

That's his worst fear: thinking.

It's a stupid thing to be afraid of really, but he can't help it. Percy hates his own mind, hates the way it tells him constantly that he is a failure, that it's his own fault his parents can't stand him, that he's abnormal. And Percy supposes that in a way that's true – if he would just put aside his own damn ideals then maybe he wouldn't be so different, but Percy knows it's just not that simple. He wishes it were, really, he does.

It's not so much that Percy hates who he is; it's that he hates what society makes of him.

Percy himself, is content with himself as any teenage could hope to be. Sure, every now and then he'll stand in front of his own reflection and despises every inch of what he sees, but what teenager doesn't? It's just another thing that's in the job description, and this time, Percy is playing by the rules.

It's just that they're all so goddamn judgmental. Percy knows he's different; he doesn't need to be told. And yet, they'll continue to label him, sneer, whisper, words they think he can't hear. It's cold, harsh really, and Percy hates every minute of it.

He drifts through the school halls in a daze, or something close to it. The time is passing generously quickly today, and Percy's glad for it, going about his work as a distraction and nothing more. Because at least he's at school, he's away from his parents, and if he's doing something, that's even better because now, he's away from himself.

ℓℓℓ

The shock that registers on his face when his mother picks him up from school might be comical had Percy not been worried for her mental health. His mother had not picked him up since he was ten – why should she start back now? But there's her car, sitting patiently in the parking lot, her eyes peeled for the sight of her son. Percy walks over warily. He's unsure as to whether he's dreamt the entire thing and it seems deciding more likely than the fact that she's actually here.

He's wrong.

She's there alright, waving at him enthusiastically to make sure he sees her, and Percy, just like any other teenager, winces a little before glancing around, his cheeks beginning to flush. It's pointless really, and he doesn't understand why he still feels embarrassed about anything because after all, no one's ever there to see.

His mother's eyes are far too fidgety. They flicker around the car aimlessly, looking at anything except for Percy. He leaves her to her vices for a moment, opening the door and shifting in his seat a little bit, staring at her pointedly, and she's somehow forced to look at him.

Even though he doesn't speak, she is his mother and is in tune with him more than he could ever hope to realize.

"I thought we could go for some ice cream... we haven't done that in a while you know and I—"

Percy blinks and stares at her with a disbelieving look on his face.

She sighs long and hard.

"Alright, alright. I'm, uh… I want you to go back to see that woman again… what was her name?"

Percy shrugs his shoulders just barely enough so that she can see. Fuck if he knows

"Well… yes, her… I think she could really… she really seems to know what she is doing Perseus and I just… I want you to be happy."

It's a lie, Percy knows. It's a lie to keep them both normal, to keep playing the charade that they're mother-and-son, just as much as anybody else and their kid. Percy doesn't mind too much that she's lying—she's been doing it for so long he knows it must be hard for her to stop.

He considers storming out of the car right then and there, to show her he doesn't want help… doesn't need help.

But then she's looking at him, practically groveling at his feet, and he can't bring himself to refuse.

He really hates these therapists with a fiery passion, but she's his mother, and if he's being honest, Percy really does love her. He just finds it difficult to show her when she is shoving him in every direction that is away from her.

And so slowly, Percy nods—just a slight inclination of the head, the faintest agreement, and the tiniest way to show her that he still cares.

She smiles, and for a second, they are mother-and-son just the same as everybody else.

**Well I truly apologize for how long of a wait you guys had for this chapter. I want to give you all these excuses, but it won't change the fact that this one chapter took over 2 weeks. So I hope you enjoy, and I will tell you know; this wait will not become the norm for this story.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I am not a paid author. I make no money from this story or these characters. Rick Riordan makes money off these characters, though. Unfortunately, I am not him, and I don't own Percy Jackson and his friends. Enjoy**

**Chapter 4**

Percy feels uneasy as he walks through the foyer. He's on his own this time; his mother kindly dropped him off and continued on her way, explaining that she felt uncomfortable in such a place.

_Thanks for the confidence booster, Mom, _Percy thinks dryly, shoving his hand in his pockets as he sidles up to the woman at the reception desk. She peers at him through her glasses, and Percy can tell that she is evaluating, analyzing, trying to discern why he needs to see a therapist. Percy feels like flipping her off, but he settles for shooting her a look that clearly says, 'It's none of your fucking business.'

"What's your name?"

Percy draws his hand out of his pocket, handing over the slip of paper with the details of his appointment on it. She glances at it briefly, makes a small sound of realization and nods.

"You're the one who doesn't talk."

She waits, and Percy stares at her incredulously. She has just informed him that she knows he doesn't talk, and yet she sits there, as if she's expecting an answer. Finally, she sighs, long and hard, before she gestures back to the foyer.

"Take a seat then."

Percy does as he is told, shuffling over and sitting himself down, shifting a little to try and get comfortable in the plastic chair.

He's been waiting maybe five, ten minutes when the door swings open and a pair of feet enters Percy's view, pulling with them the rest of the person's body. He recognizes the boy he had seen the day before, and Percy can't help but smile, drinking in the boy's appearance greedily.

He is wearing tight jeans and Percy grins wider, loving the way they cling to the boy's legs seductively, showing off every curve of his calves and thighs. They're complemented by a black t-shirt with skulls, somewhat matching the dark hair that hangs a little messily around his face. He's wearing a skull ring, but Percy decides that all the darkness suits him, rather than make him look depressed. No, it makes this boy look mysterious, and intelligent, and Percy finds himself leaning forward a little in his seat to follow they boy with his eyes as the stranger walks up to the receptionist.

"Oh, hello Nico," the receptionist greets him warmly, and Percy wonders if the boy, Nico, is a regular. Percy hopes so; maybe he won't be so reluctant to come to these sessions after all.

"And how are you this afternoon, Hazel?"

Nico gives a small wink to the receptionist, and Percy stifles a giggle at the way the strange boy is so obviously sweet talking her. Percy decides that he's the one of those boys, the one that all the women want their daughters to date.

Percy has never been one of those boys, but he never wanted to be.

Percy is entirely comfortable with his sexuality. Sometimes he wonders why so many gay guys find it hard to fit in and make people accept them, but then Percy realizes that it's an entirely different matter for him. This because well, it's not like anybody knows he's gay, and even if they did, they've already ostracized him enough, that they couldn't possibly avoid him any more than they already do.

He's never actually been with a boy before, and Percy wonders what it would be like to have someone to kiss, hold—he cuts off that thought sharply; it's no use to him.

"Just have a seat Nico and she'll be with you shortly."

Nico nods, giving the receptionist another winning smile before he turns on his heel and heads back to the foyer. They make eye contact, and Percy gives a tiny smile, the corners of his mouth just barely lifting. To his surprise, Nico comes and sits beside him, and Percy almost topples out of his own seat in shock.

"Hey. I'm Nico," the boy introduces himself, holding out his hand. Percy shakes it shyly, embarrassment threatening to make him blush after his unfortunate chair episode. Nico frowns, his eyebrows wrinkling as he lets go of Percy's hand and stares at him.

"This is normally the part where you introduce yourself," he says with a teasing smile, and for the first time Percy is almost ashamed of himself.

His eyes move to the linoleum floor beneath them, his hands fidgeting in his la, unsure of how he's supposed to explain this without the use of words. He really doesn't want to come off as rude or unwelcoming, but that's slowly the conclusion that Nico is beginning to draw.

"Alright, I get it. Not a social one. I'll just—"

Percy snaps his head up, staring at Nico desperately pleading with his eyes for him not to move.

_Stay here. Keep talking to me. Please, _he wants to say.

"Are you… Are you okay?" Nico asks, the first traces of worry creeping into his eyes. Percy hears the receptionist give a long, exasperated sigh.

"He doesn't talk, Nico!" she yells out, and Percy can't help but blush this time, wishing that the chair would swallow him whole once Nico turns his gaze back on him.

There's a calculating look to his gaze, and he's silent for a moment, looking Percy over as if trying to see inside his head. Percy sits, frozen, unable to move as Nico's eyes linger on him, and he begins to wish that something, anything would interrupt Nico's analysis and allow him to get away from such a stare.

"Huh," Nico sits back a little, crossing his arms over his chest. "You really don't talk, do you?"

Percy thinks it's a fairly stupid question, but he gives a tiny shake of his head, indicating that no, he doesn't talk, and yes, the stupid receptionist was dead on the nail.

"Kind of puts a damper on conversation, doesn't it?" Nico grins, and Percy can't help his own smile in response.

"So why don't you talk, huh? Oh, wait, stupid question. You won't answer me."

Percy finds Nico's forgetfulness something rather to be adored, and his smile widens before suddenly a door is opening and his name is being called.

"Perseus Ugliano?"

Percy stands up, and Nico grins in triumph.

"Aha! So your name's Perseus, then." He stands up, and Percy shudders a little, shaking his head.

_Percy. My name's Percy.___

Nico laughs, his smile not faltering. "Alright then, whatever you say. You're an odd one, Perce. I like it."

Percy shrugs, unsure of how he's supposed to respond to such a statement before his name is being called out and he takes a step away from Nico and towards the therapist.

He pauses, turns back, and gives Nico a pointed look.

_I don't want to leave. If I leave you'll be gone and you'll never come back. Just like everyone else.___

"See you tomorrow?" Nico asks, and Percy grins a little lopsidedly, nodding his head in the affirmative.

"Good."

Percy moves to walk away before Nico speaks again.

"Oh, and Perce?"

He turns around, questioning.

"Bring paper and pen next time, yeah?"

Percy gives another non-committal shrug. He doesn't normally like to converse in the written word, either. His pen and his paper are saved for more important things... Like the papers his parents are intent on finding every last one of.

He doesn't give Nico time to question him again, hurrying into the therapist's office. She sits him down and begins to talk, but Percy's brain barely registers a word she says. He's far too busy picturing deep brown eyes and tight jeans...

**And that's a wrap. Hope you enjoy reading my little story, and Hope you stick around to see the end! Thanks for the reviews!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I make no money from this story or these characters. Rick Riordan makes money off these characters, though. Unfortunately, I am not him, and I don't own Percy Jackson and his friends. Enjoy**

**Chapter 5**

Percy is still smiling as he leaves the therapist's office, and he's quite sure that he shocks his mother to death when she arrives to pick him up. He waves cheerily, sliding into the passenger seat, and she's still staring at him as though she doesn't recognize him.

"So uh... Did your session go well, then?" she asks, shifting the car into gear and pulling out of the parking lot.

Percy grins wider, remembering Nico, the first person to make an effort with him in three years, and he can't help but feel his heart start to race a little. His mother continues to eye him suspiciously as he nods, and Percy knows she's confused by his sudden change in attitude, but he doesn't care.

The rest of the drive is silent, and his mother keeps sending him weird looks that Percy pretends he doesn't see until they pull up in the driveway and Percy clambers out. He's eager to get his hands back on his guitar. Meeting Nico seems to have given him an all new inspiration and his fingers itch to strum the strings.

His stepfather is in the kitchen when Percy opens the door. He grunts at him, shooting his stepson a disapprovingly look, and Percy avoids his eyes.

"What are you grinning about, huh?"

The words are spat at him spitefully, and even from a few meters away, Percy can smell the alcohol on his breath. He fights the urge to gag, instead giving a non-committal shrug before he's slipping into his bedroom to leave his mother to deal with his mess of a stepfather.

It's not long before he can hear them yelling, and Percy slams his door shut loudly to make his point clear before he's rummaging through his closet again. His fingers close around the neck of his guitar finally, and he tugs it out of its hiding spot, settling back down on his bed with it in his lap. His fingers brush over the strings once, not playing them, but merely feeling the texture beneath his calloused fingertips, closing his eyes and committing the touch to memory, saving it for the inevitable day that his parents would take his guitar away from him. He knew it was only a matter of time, really. They were convinced that it gave him a reason to hide away from the rest of the world, and that, in turn, was detrimental to his "recovery".

Percy wanted to tell them that he couldn't recover from a disease that didn't exist.

There was no recovery to be done - Percy was perfectly healthy.

Then, Percy remembered Nico.

He felt a dull ache in his chest as he thought of the other boy, wishing for the first time that he was like everyone else. He wanted, _needed_ Nico to like him. Percy hadn't had proper contact with someone his age in three years, and he had all but forgotten how much he needed it until it had been forced upon him. And now he wanted more. But Percy also knew from previous experience that there was no way Nico would hang around much longer now that he knew Percy would not speak.

Percy doesn't blame him; it does make a friendship a little difficult. But he still allows himself to hope that maybe, just maybe Nico will be different to all the others. Maybe he'll give Percy a chance.

With that thought allowing a smile to grace his lips, Percy sets the guitar down, crawling into bed beside it and letting his eyes fall closed.

ℓℓℓ

"Perseus?"

Hands are on Percy's shoulders and shaking him gently, and he swats them away in annoyance, rolling over and trying to fall asleep again. He's shaken more firmly this time, his voice being called again and again until finally, Percy groans quietly and opens his eyes to find his mother staring back at him.

He's taken aback at first - He's never seen her lose control.

But here she is, standing in front of him, her eyes wide and watery, makeup smudged in messy streaks down her face.

Percy sits up abruptly, his eyes searching hers for an explanation.

"Perseus, we're leaving, come on,"

Percy's worry dissipates; this is hardly anything new.

"Will you get out of bed? We're leaving right now, please, Perseus."

A shake of the head and Percy is lying back down again, pulling the covers up to his chin and rolling on his side so that his back is facing her. This happens at _least_ once every two weeks, often more. Percy 's stepfather will get even drunker than normal, they'll fight, yell, scream, and soon enough, his mother will come rushing into his bedroom demanding he get packed and that they're leaving his stepfather for good.

They never do.

Once, they actually made it to a hotel and stayed one night before his mother was rushing them home again the next morning. If Percy knows anything, it's that his mother can't stand not having security. It doesn't matter that her husband is an alcoholic, she still needs him. She needs him because she can't bear the thought of anything changing, or of her being out on her own without him to support her. Percy used to play along if only to please her, getting out of bed and packing his things, following her to the car and getting in, buckling up his seatbelt and waiting patiently for her to change her mind again.

"Perseus, I'm serious this time, get -"

"Babe, I didn't mean it, promise. I'm sorry," his stepfather's voice calls, and Percy rolls his eyes, because his stepfather his just as pathetically dependant as his mother.

It's not long before he's left alone again, and he can hear his mother downstairs apologizing for even _thinking_ about leaving.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson and his friends. Enjoy**

**Chapter 6**

"Nico! Sorry, I was with a patient."

Nico shrugs his shoulders, a warm smile gracing his lips. "It's okay, Bianca, really. How was the session?"

His sister sighs, her shoulders drooping a little. "I don't think he was listening to me at _all._ And he's really hard to get through to. I mean, I need him to open up to me if we can even start getting to the bottom of him... But if he won't even open his mouth, I don't see how that's possible."

Nico's always liked the steady relationship he and his sister have. They can talk about almost everything, and he never feels the need to hold back. She likes to talk about her job with him, and Nico likes to help out. He offers advice where he can, and occasionally she introduced him to the patients - A lot of them are the same age as him, and are more willing to open up to a fellow teenager than a woman they just met.

Her new patient seems fascinating, and Nico follows her to the car, their conversation still going forward animatedly as they climb in and buckle up.

"So he's shy? Stubborn?"

She shakes her head, looking at her brother with a sigh. "No, nothing like that. This is his problem in the first place. The kid doesn't talk. His parents want me to find out why, but the problem is he doesn't _want_ to let anyone know, from what I can tell."

Nico smiles, slowly, surely. "You don't mean Perseus Ugliano?"

"That's him alright. You guys know each other?"

Nico shrugs. "We don't _know_ each other, per se. It's not like I can tell you why he doesn't talk. I met him in the foyer this morning. He was waiting to go in and see you."

Bianca nods a little distractedly as she navigates the car into the driveway. "He seems like a nice kid and all. A little odd, but nice enough. I just wish he'd make some effort to communicate. The kid won't even write notes."

A frown smudges Nico's lips as he remembers the way the boy was hesitant when Nico told him to bring paper and pen. So he wouldn't speak, he wouldn't write...

"Maybe it's not just talking Perseus has a problem with, then. Maybe it's just the idea of communication in general?"

She nods thoughtfully, and they're making their way into the house, still chatting mindlessly about a boy neither of them know, but are dying to understand the mysteries of.

Nico sits himself down at the dining table as his sister flitters around the kitchen, making them both cups of coffee. It's almost become a ritual ever since their mother died. Nico will go down to her office to wait for her every afternoon; they come home, drink coffee at the old table and discuss her patients, and whatever else they feel like. Nico likes the comfort of routine. He knows that most kids his age would despise the idea of sitting and having a friendly conversation with the person raising them, but Nico and his sister have grown impossibly closer since their mother's death, and if he's being honest, he loves talking to her.

"Well that's what it would have to be, right? I mean, he doesn't even communicate with his own mother. I had a talk to her and she's completely lost; has no idea what to do with him anymore."

"Start with the basics. Parents still together?"

Nico keeps the tone light; he knows she doesn't like to be reminded of their own father.

"Yes, the mother told me. She seemed a little edge though. I think there might be something more to it there."

"Okay, so don't rule out domestic issues. Maybe that's why he's taken his vow of silence," Nico grins.

"School life? He goes to the same school as you, right?"

Nico frowns, wracking his brain for a memory of seeing the kid at school and coming up short. "Not sure. I don't remember ever seeing him around, but it's not that small a school, and well, he's not exactly loud."

She gives a short laugh, sitting down across from him and passing her brother his coffee. He takes a sip, letting the hot liquid slide down his throat.

"He seems like a nice kid, Bianca. I'm sure he'll open up."

"Yeah, you're right. I have another session with him tomorrow, so we'll see how that goes."

"So soon?" Nico frowns. Normally, the patients only come once a week, at most.

His sister scowls, glancing at her coffee before her eyes pierce Nico's. "I get the feeling that his parents don't want to deal with him... Like, at all."

"So they send him to a therapist every day instead? That's a bit harsh... No offence."

She laughs, shaking her head. "None taken. You know what's strange about him? He shudders every time I say his name."

Nico nods, remembering that the boy had done the same thing. "I asked if his name was Perseus Ugliano and he freaked out and started shaking his head."

"Maybe he just hates his name?"

"His name's Ugliano. I don't blame him," Nico snorts, covering it up with by downing a gulp of coffee and scorching a trail down his throat. He splutters a little, his eyes watering as he tries to choke out his next words. "- But again, I reckon there's something more to it. He _really_ hated it when I called him that."

The two fall into a casual silence for a few moments, not uncomfortable, merely lost in their own thoughts involving a young boy who doesn't speak. And no matter how hard either of them dwells on it, they can't seem to formulate a suitable reason for why a seventeen year old boy would just... Stop speaking.

"How long has he been silent for?" Nico asks suddenly, and his sister's gaze snaps to him, answering on reflex.

"Three years."

"That's a long vow of silence."

"Tell me about it. Do you think you could come to the office a little earlier tomorrow? Have a chat to him; see if he'll open up to you a little."

Nico can see the frown lines wrinkling her forehead, the way her eyes narrow and she bites her lip, and he knows how much this means to her. It's been a while since he saw her so caught up in one patient, but Nico isn't surprised. He's just as caught up in the mystery of Perseus Ugliano as she is. He wants to know just what it is that made the guy condemn himself to such a long period of silence. He wants to know whether it really was self inflicted. They've reviewed his records, his medical file… the boy _can_ speak, Nico knows. He just chooses not to.

But why would anyone choose _not_ to speak?

Freedom of speech alright… gives the freedom not to exercise it, no matter what.

"Sure Bianca, I'll talk to him," Nico agrees, and he knows he's not doing it just because she asked him to. He would've shown up early regardless. There's something about the boy that intrigues him, something even beyond the refusal to formulate words. There's secrets hidden behind those eyes that Nico wants to unravel, stories he wants to be a part of, memories he wants to create and bask in. He's never felt so attached to one person in such a short period of time, and it frightens him a little, but he shrugs it off.

"Oh, and Nico? I know it might be hard, and I'm not asking you to lie or anything... Tell him if he asks, but... Don't blurt out that you're my little brother, okay?"

Nico understands. The chances of Perce opening up are ten times more likely if he doesn't know that Nico is his therapist's brother. It's easier this way for all of them, and Nico doesn't see the harm in it, really. He's not lying to the boy; he's just not telling him his life story. _And besides_, he thinks wryly, _Perce should be able to sympathize. It's not like _he's_ telling them anything either._

**Hello. This is the fastest I've posted a chapter! Break just gave so much time to write and I was really excited about doing a chapter that follows Nico. I hope you liked it. Oh and a Happy Thanksgiving to my American readers and to my all my readers, I hope you have a marvelous rest of the day.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I am not Rick Riordan. Know what that means? I don't own Percy Jackson and his friends.**

**Chapter 7**

Percy's head is bent forward, his chin tucked in to his chest to avoid the cold. His fingers clutch his jacket to his thin frame tightly, and his scarf whips around his neck in the wind as he pushes forward. He's shaking, shivering, and he hates the fact that he has to put a hand out in front of him to open the large glass door. It's heavy, and Percy struggles with it for a moment before he finally gets it open, practically throwing himself inside.

He takes a moment to readjust, straightening his scarf, pulling the jacket tight again. The receptionist is eyeing him with somewhat of an amused smile, and he resists the urge to glare at her as he shuffles towards the desk.

"Ugliano..." she muses, tapping away at her keyboard for a moment before, without looking at him, she points to a seat. Percy bites back a laugh and does as he's ordered, gratefully collapsing into the plastic chair.

Still shivering a little, he brings his hands together and holds them in front of his mouth, blowing hot air onto his numb fingers. Once he can feel them again, he sits back, his foot tapping a random tune on the linoleum. He's breathing in, out, watching the way his hot breath hits the cold air in small puffs when he hears his name.

"Perce!"

He turns his head sharply to see the same boy jogging across the foyer towards him. He can't help but smile a little, his eyes taking in every inch of the familiar boy greedily. His cheeks and nose are rosy from the cold, and Percy thinks it's the most adorable thing he's ever set eyes on.

"Hey," Nico smiles as he sits down beside the other boy, and Percy gives a small wave in response.

"So, how are you today?"

The question takes Percy a little by surprise. He's not used to anyone other than the damn therapists asking him that. He shrugs, and well, it's the truth, because Percy isn't really all that sure how he feels.

His mother woke him that morning with a firm instruction that he was to go straight to the therapist after school. He remembers the bitter edge to her voice and he flinches a little, seeing the frown that wrinkles Nico's brow.

"It's Nico. You know, we uh, we met yesterday?" the boy throws out there, and Percy smirks, nodding a little to show that yes, he remembers.

How could he forget, really?

"Are you here a lot, then?" Nico asks, and Percy gives a short nod, trying to fight the blush threatening to blossom across his cheeks.

He doesn't entirely understand why - He's never been ashamed of it before, but there's something about Nico that makes him want to keep it all a secret. He doesn't want Percy to know that he'll be here every day, simply because his parents don't know how to deal with him anymore. He doesn't want him to know that his own mother is ashamed to be seen with him in public. He wants Nico to see him as normal... or as normal as he _can_ be seen. He already seems abnormal enough in Nico's eyes because of his refusal to speak. He doesn't want him to know that he comes from a dysfunctional family that doesn't want him anymore.

Because if not even Percy wants to deal with his family, why should Nico?

"You didn't bring the notebook and pen, I see," Nico teases, and Percy puts his head down, expertly avoiding the other boy's eyes.

He also doesn't want to have to explain that it's not the _talking_ Percy hates, it's the entire concept of words.

Percy doesn't trust his own mind. He's afraid of what words might spill from his lips, or onto a piece of paper if he allowed them to. He's _seen_ the effect of words, and Percy knows that it's damn fucking true what they say about the pen being mightier than the sword. Only Percy doesn't think it's such a wonderful thing.

Is it too much to ask?

All Percy wants is to be left in peace. To be left to his own vices; his own way of coping with the cards that life has dealt him.

His stepfather relies on alcohol, his mother on her own delusions. Why can't Percy just have his lack of words?

"We should hang out some time," Nico proposes casually, and Percy does a double take, making sure that he heard correctly.

And when he's absolutely _certain_ that Nico asked what he thinks he asked, slowly, a little nervously, he nods.

He's immediately glad he did when he sees the grin that floods Nico's features. Percy knows then and there he'd do anything to make Nico smile like that.

"Perseus Ugliano?"

Percy's smiling so widely that he barely registers the use of the name he despises, and he simply stands up, nodding at the therapist. She's poking her head out of the door, smiling at him in a way that Percy's not used to. It's not the calculating smile that most of them give him - she seems genuinely happy, and he can't figure out why.

Rather than hurting his brain further trying to solve the mysteries of his therapist, he turns his attention back to Nico. He has an overwhelming urge to kiss him, caress those pink lips with his own and show Nico that he can use his mouth in other ways, but he resists forcefully. Instead, he offers Nico another grin, waving his hand a little in a gesture of goodbye.

"See you tomorrow, Perce," Nico replies, and Percy likes him all the more because it's so obvious that Nico is blatantly refusing to call him Perseus Ugliano, even if he has no idea what Percy prefers to be called.

Percy follows the therapist into the room with a slight spring in his step, and he isn't upset at all when she closes the door behind them and gestures for him to lay down on the usual lounge. This time, the squeaking leather barely registers in his mind as he does as he's told, resting his hands in his lap and waiting for her to begin.

"So I thought we could start with your name, sweetheart..."

Percy's feeling mixed emotions. He doesn't know whether to be dismayed that he's about to be interrogated about his reaction to his given name, or whether to be elated that someone might finally agree to call him as he wishes.

"You don't like being called Perseus Ugliano," she states, and Percy nods his confirmation, eyeing her cautiously, trying to gauge which direction she's taking this in.

"It's come to my attention that it's the same name as your stepfather."

She says it with a cautious tone, careful not to upset him, and yet at the same time, eager to find out if that's the cause of it all.

Percy pauses a moment, weighing up his decision before he gives a curt nod.

"How's your relationship with your stepfather?"

Percy's not sure how to answer that one, so he avoids her eyes, shrinking into the chair and turning his head away.

"Alright. So we'll stick to basic yes or no questions. This might seem a little blunt, so forgive me... But is he the reason you want to change your name?"

Percy bites his lip. That _is_ awfully blunt for a shrink. But he finds his heart warming a little, and a tiny smile working at his lips at the knowledge that she didn't ask it to be cruel, or invasive, but because it really is the only way of getting a straight yes or no. She's not asking him to speak, not yet, and Percy can't help but be grateful.

And so he nods.

Ever since his stepfather turned to alcohol, Percy had stopped thinking himself of an Ugliano. When he was younger, he loved the idea of having the same name of his stepfather; loved the thought that he was apart of real family. And then he had started drinking so heavily that he was no longer a father, but a stranger who happened to be living under the same roof. The thought that he was tied to such a pathetic excuse for existence disgusted Percy, and he was horrified at the thought that they shared the same title. He began to obsess, terrified that one day, he himself might end up as his stepfather had.

He became a Jackson again.

Swapping his new last name for his given one was easy for Percy. By then he had already given up on the use of words, and so there was no one to tell, and no confusion. And yet, with no way to tell everyone else, his original name was still thrust upon him day after day, and Percy was yet again reminded that whether he liked it or not, he was linked to that man who led his life by the bottle.

"What would you like to be called then, hon? What do you call yourself?"

Percy hesitates. Now _this_, she wants an actual answer for. And just because she's offering to call him something other than Ugliano doesn't mean Percy is going to give up all of his beliefs for her. He avoids her again, tucking his knees to his chest and edging away on the lounge.

She watches him for a moment, before slowly, cautiously, almost nervously, she pulls a tiny notebook from her pocket and hands it to him. His fingers are shaking a little as he clutches it, his eyes flickering to her as she hands him a pen.

Writing is not so big of a deal as speaking, Percy knows. He _does_ write, it's just not for anyone else to see. He doesn't mind so much if it's only _himself_ he's destroying with his words; he just hates the thought of anybody else knowing the dangers of his mind.

But she's sitting there, staring at him, and there's hope and kindness and a flicker of fear in her eyes that jolts him. Never before has he had a therapist who seems so desperate to figure him out - And not just for the gloating rights, but because she really does seem to _care._

Percy thinks of Nico and of the way he lit up when Percy gave the smallest of gestures, and there's some urge deep within him that wants to cause the same reaction on this woman's face.

He looks at her again, biting his lip so hard he tastes blood before he puts his head down, bracing the notebook on his knees. He grips the pen, so tightly his knuckles start to turn white, and as it nears the paper, Percy fights the urge to squeeze his eyes shut. He can feel her eyes on him, and he tries his best to block it out as he touches the biro to the paper and watches as the ink spills onto the notebook as he forms the beginning of a straight line.

And then it's just a matter of lines and curves, and Percy can pretend that they don't mean anything as he draws them. Lines and curves, flicks of ink and scribbles of a pen that don't amount to anything, and that makes it okay.

There are two words written on the paper in front of him, and he takes a moment to study it - _Lines and curves and nothing more_ - before he turns his head away from her again and hands her the paper and pen back.

She's quiet for a moment, and Percy begins to wonder whether he's made a mistake when she speaks, and Percy can _hear_ the smile in her tone.

"Thank you, _Percy Jackson._"

**Finally! Another chapter! And with a name explanation this time! I told y'all it would clear up at some point. I'm not going too much into detail of what happened to Percy's real father in this story. I didn't want it to affect too much. Gabe married Sally when Percy was so young, that he understands that Gabe is not his paternal father, but knows nothing else. Just wanted to tell y'all that too. Happy Holidays. Enjoy all the celebrations that y'all will have for whatever reason. Be safe and have fun.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

As soon as he's walking out into the foyer, Percy knows that he should regret what he just did, but he doesn't, not even in the slightest. She's a therapist; it's her job to tell his parents every single word he says - especially in Percy's case. There's no doubt in his mind that the piece of paper with his name on it will be handed to his mother, and the onslaught of questions will begin. He's not sure how they expect him to answer them, but he knows that they _will_ be asked, all the same.

Percy's trying to find it in himself to care when Nico saunters into the room, and all previous thoughts are immediately forgotten. Briefly, he wonders why Nico is still hanging around - after all, he was there an hour ago when Percy first went into his session - but the thought is quickly eradicated and replaced with the simple one of; _why the fuck does it matter, as long as he's here?_

Nico smiles when he sees him, and Percy decides that it _definitely_ doesn't matter.

"Hey!"

Percy smiles, waves and tries to hide the blush threatening to form as Nico makes his way over to him.

"How'd your session go?" Nico asks nodding his head in the direction of the room Percy just exited. He's still smiling encouragingly, and there's some spark inside of Percy that suddenly makes him _want_ to tell somebody of the events that just took place. He wants somebody to be proud of him, to congratulate him on the fact that he _finally_ got somebody to understand even just a tiny part of him.

He nods happily, his own smile sweeping across his face.

He wants to show Nico the piece of paper, finally give Nico the answer to what to call him, but it's still with the therapist, and Percy doesn't know if he could bring himself to do it all over again so soon. Baby steps, baby steps.

He passes the thought off for a moment, leaving it for another time.

"So, Perce, wanna go hang out? We could go get something to eat if you want?"

Percy's eyes flicker to the front door where he knows his mother will be arriving shortly. He hesitates a little, but then he remembers the way his mother looks at him, and compares it to the way _Nico_ is looking at him. There's that ever-present smile on his lips, a tinge of hope mixed with doubt behind his eyes, and Percy can tell that despite his confidence exterior, Nico is a little nervous.

Percy can't for the life of him figure out _why_, but it makes him smile. Nico, he decides, is officially adorable.

"Hello? Perce?" Nico's waving a hand in his face, and Percy remembers that he's still waiting for an answer. He snaps back to the question at hand, and his mind lingers a little on the fact that Nico is _still_ calling him Perce. Still refraining from calling him Ugliano because he can tell that Percy hates it, but still unsure of what the alternative is. Percy wants him to know, wants Nico to be able to call him by his real name. He's becoming increasingly curious as to what his name will sound like from Nico's gorgeously carved lips.

Percy grins, nodding enthusiastically in answer to Nico's previous question. His eyes dart once more to the front door, and he feels guilty for a fraction of a second. He knows his mother will wonder where he is, and it makes him feel a little bit happier at the thought that maybe she'll be worried. Percy's not trying to be a typical teenager, but he can't help it. The thought of his mother actually worrying about him is nice; a lot better than her usual indifference or exasperation.

He knows his stepfather won't care in the slightest, but Percy makes a note not to even think about _him_.

"Awesome! So, do you like ice cream?" Nico asks with a grin as he leads Percy towards the exit.

Percy doesn't really, but he nods anyway, loving the smile on Nico's face too much to cause it to falter.

ℓℓℓ

Percy takes a small lick of his plain vanilla ice cream, watching in bemusement as Nico takes a giant bite out of his triple-fudge-chocolate. It's a mission in itself, and Percy can't help but laugh as Nico ends up with it smeared all over the side of his mouth. Despite the fact that merely _looking_ at the concoction Nico has ordered makes Percy feel physically sick, he has a sudden urge to kiss Nico's mouth clean and lick the ice cream from his cheek. He keeps himself in check however, blushing red and pointing nervously at the spot. Nico frowns for a moment, and Percy mimes cleaning it off on his own cheek, and Nico understands.

"Oh," he makes a sound of acknowledgement, grabbing his napkin and swiping at his face, and Percy can't help but laugh again as Nico misses it entirely.

"What's so funny, huh?" Nico pouts and Percy almost has to sit on his hands to stop himself from grabbing the boy across the table from him.

Instead, he indicates for Nico to hand him the napkin. He does so with a grin, and Percy rolls his eyes before leaning across the table, his hands trembling a little as he cleans Nico up. He can feel Nico's cool breath on his neck, and Percy shivers, quickly scrubbing off the rest of the chocolate and sitting firmly back in his chair.

"Thanks," Nico beams, taking another large bite.

Percy's watching him in amazement of how he manages to shovel it all into his mouth when suddenly Nico slaps a hand to his head, grimacing. Percy's out of his chair in seconds, all fluttery panic and not knowing what to do. Nico groans loudly, and Percy's own hand flies to his mouth, teeth chewing on nails as he hovers beside Nico's chair.

He's always hated it when people are hurt. Percy has a deep-rooted fear of hospitals that he doesn't think anyone could ever measure. He puts it down to the amount of time he's spent in hospital waiting rooms while his stepfather is off getting his stomach pumped.

Nico looks up at him suddenly, all wide grin and reassuring eyes, and Percy calms down a little.

"Chill, Perce, it was just a brain freeze."

Percy blushes even deeper, looking away and sliding back into his chair, cursing himself for looking like an idiot. He can't bring himself to look at Nico anymore, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the table, his ice cream abandoned.

"Hey, Perce, it's okay. Look at me?"

Percy does, slowly, unable to resist the pleading tone to Nico's voice. There's a tiny flicker in his mind that reminds him how cruel it is for him to be slowly becoming infatuated with the first friend he's had in _forever_, but Percy pushes it away quickly.

When he finally meets Nico's eyes, Percy feels a little uneasy. Nico is looking at him curiously, calculating, and Percy can almost _see_ the gears going to work in the other boy's mind.

"When are you going to tell me your name?" Nico says in almost a whisper, and Percy feels his breath hitch in his throat. He's slightly panicky again, wanting to give Nico everything he could ever desire, and at the same time, not knowing how he's supposed to deliver. He can't bear the thought of ruining everything he's worked so hard for just for the boy who's practically a stranger sitting in front of him. Percy's a little embarrassed to admit that he's practically forgotten _how._

What surprises him the most is that he _wants_ Nico to know.

He feels the same urge that he did in the therapist's office; the desire to please, even if it's one of the hardest things he'll ever do. For a brief second, he'd do anything just to make Nico happy, and his eyes are already scanning the place for a paper and pen when Nico speaks again.

"Shit, sorry, I didn't mean... I didn't mean to say that out loud," he rushes, and for once it's _Nico_ who's blushing red.

Percy shakes his head, trying to tell Nico that _it's okay; it doesn't matter,_and Nico smiles shyly. His fingers are almost itchy; he wants to tell Nico, _needs_ to tell him. He craves knowing what the sounds will sound like slipped from the other boy's lips, wants to watch his mouth form the letters so perfectly.

Percy closes his eyes briefly, making up his mind, and lunges for the napkin that _wasn't_ used to clean Nico's face. Nico watches him, curiosity and confusion written across his features as Percy grips the napkin tightly, searching around for a pen.

"What are you...?" Nico tries, but Percy is shaking his head, getting more frustrated by the minute. He has to do this _now_, before he can back down, but he can't find a goddamn pen.

With panicky hands, Percy mimes writing, and Nico's eyes widen.

"You... You want to write something?"

Percy nods vehemently, and Nico almost falls off his chair.

"Oh! Okay! Um, we need a pen. Shit, I don't have one," his words are tumbling out of his mouth in a rush, and Percy knows that Nico can tell this might be one of the only chances they get. They spend another few minutes looking for something to write with, upon which Nico even asks the strangers at the next few tables, but when he can't find one, he sits back down in front of Percy with a sigh.

"I'm sorry, Perce. When we go back, yeah?"

Percy nods, smiling a little, and Nico goes back to attempting to demolish his ice cream.

ℓℓℓ

When Percy gets home, his mother is immediately demanding to know where and with whom he's been. He shakes his head at her, keeping his eyes on the floor as he tries to push past her and into his room, but she isn't having it. Not today.

"Perseus, get back here and tell me where you've been. I've been worried sick."

Percy turns around, raising one eyebrow, asking her silently whether she _really_ expects him to sit down and start telling her everything. She sighs, throwing her hands up in defeat and turns her back on him.

"And I really thought you were making progress, after what the therapist showed us..."

Immediately, he knows that they've been shown the piece of paper, and his feet are rooted to the ground as he waits for the questions to begin.

"Why _do_ you call yourself Percy Jackson?" his mother asks finally, still not looking at him, and Percy shuffles his feet nervously. She whips back around to stare at him, her eyes demanding an answer, and he looks away on instinct.

"I don't understand you, Perseus. Are you _that_ ungrateful that you even change your _name_? You won't speak to us, you barely acknowledge us... And now you're even denying your father's name."

Her tone is bitter, and Percy flinches a little under the sharp words, taking a step back.

"Don't you appreciate _anything_ we've done for you?"

Percy wants to tell her that she haven't done _anything_ for him except push him away and practically disown him as her son. He hates the words she's showering down on him, making him feel smaller by the second. Even his stepfather has turned to watch the scene now, a scowl on his lips as he stares at the boy.

"It's because he'll never measure up. Can't stand to have my name because he knows he's not worth it," his stepfather spits before storming into the other room, and Percy wants to scream and cry and swear all at once, but he does nothing, just stands there and lets them continue throwing harsh words and uncaring insults at him.

"Go to your room; I don't want to deal with you right now," his mother finally says, and Percy doesn't wait to be told twice.

He sits on his bed and fidgets with his fingers. He's dying to play his guitar, but after raiding his closet and then the rest of his bedroom, he comes to the conclusion that his parents have taken it from him. He can't help but think it's in spite of him changing his name.

Percy wonders whether he would get the same reaction if he told Nico. He can _see_ the disgust, the anger, the disappointment, all of it twisted unnaturally onto Nico's features. It doesn't belong there, Percy decides. Nico should be laughing, smiling and grinning. He can't imagine Nico firing the same hurtful words, and as Percy buries into his pillow and pulls the covers up around his chin, he knows that he never wants to see or hear Nico like that, _ever._

He's not going to risk it.

**Well, that put a damper on things. I felt bad about how long the last chapter took me, so bam, another chapter. These last two chapters are the longest ones I have written so far. I hope you like it.**


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